


White Trash

by TweekSatan59



Category: Original - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-28 08:40:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16238069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TweekSatan59/pseuds/TweekSatan59
Summary: An crazy insight into Little White Trash's week.  Offensive, not for pussies.Animal Cruelty/Cannibalism/Racism/Violence/Underage Sex/Rape/Bestiality/Swearing.





	White Trash

White Trash: (singing) I'm the best at being an asshole, slut!  
I learned from the alkali, the important impotent, the best.  
My Mom was an asshole, she sold me for a pitcher of her 24/7, 9 to 5, substance and a packet of fags. I am lesser than a skanky whore, they were worth more in the eyes of moral trash, those cocksuckers got paid more.  
She'd kill any fucker who drank or even touched the essence of her cold to the touch beverage, she automatically owned it like a slave on a leash. She was slave to it by her stale lasting breath, shrouding inside her greedy gutty guts.  
My Daddy was an asshole, he'd beat my aching body, shattered face and whip my exhausted ass, morning, noon and night.  
Doesn’t matter if you asked or wondered why it was always the same excuse, for no fucking reason, he’s the boss, you don’t question the fool sitting dastardly on the throne.  
What can I say, what the fuck would you like to hear, he's a typical ordinary Man of his phoney baloney God and the inheritance sham of the system.  
No questions asked, you will obey the rules.  
And now, I'm bleeding from my orifices, breeding in the ovulation circle,  
and the body count is reaching higher cloud 9 and deathless smoke.  
I am the glitch of terror, the error of misery, make no mistake Mr. police man, the hardest grounds are taking its toll.

This is what is hear throughout the open dark in pure isolation, what he was singing was based on what he had to experience, at least what was attempted or transpired, well, more or less within degrees. He was one lubricated brat, through and through. That's what little White Trash was all along, born as and for the world, nothing else more, nothing more you could get out of him, greedy inferior complex society, only what you get, only what you deserve. That's what White Trash is, an asshole. Generations and generations, family tree after family tree, bloodline above another hoard of bloodlines raised repeatedly by assholes. Father to grandfather, mother to grandmother, liquidated, ashes to ashes, dust to compulsive dirt. From the wreathing underground, to expelling the rupture of membranes inside their very own mobile home, to outer space, to the outer skirts of society. The odour of assholes is everywhere, inbreeding, conveying and lining up every second, every century on the family tree, the burden of a self-absorbed repugnance, can you smell it? The shit of Mankind.

Approximately 25 miles within 140 miles stretch of the Splitter Route desert, not a human within sight or even heard from afar in volume capacity, nothing at this moment could disturb his aeon of true premeditated segregation. Note around the area, some birds and eagles screeching in distance on boulders, lucky flapping bastards. A few snakes hissing, stalking, crawling around, even some scorpions on guard, prepare their stingers and pop up their heads over the desert, prey and corpses scented.

It was Dusk for only a few hours when he arrived, but the sun is no longer going to be White Trash's natural light. When night fell upon the desert the stars were shining down, becoming more visible, welcoming and inviting upon White Trash's abode.

Glancing through his grand bonfire, almost resembling a giant pentagram or circle incidentally, (his trailer was steer clear from catching flames) got his rotisserie spit grill stacked and loaded full of mouth-watering meat, fit for a fat fucking king or a family of 4. This is a full prepared feast for his greedy self: on the grill pit contains the following–2 whole peeled and diced onions, 3 sliced green, red and yellow peppers, a pan of 8 grasshoppers and 13 crickets; on the sharp roller pin in order contains—(1 of each kind of tender and rare meat, depending on your residence of origin) a cut-in equal half Arizona mountain king snake, a perfectly skinned Desert Spiny Lizard and lastly, a crackling and roasting singular piece of a (shaved against the grain) left leg formerly owned by a nigger hitchhiker. He was possibly around the ages of 19-24 years old, identity, who cares I flung his bag and wallet that confines his spare clothes, sleeping bag, guitar, passport and driving license about roughly 14 miles back. Whatever his name was is now and forever irrelevant, he had 56 Skimsomes and 18 insets on him, not bad at all, an inset saved is an inset earned. Awaiting casually for the slow roast, the smells were so exceptional that even other animals gained interest and attention, but nothing was getting a mile, inch or millimetre towards White Trash's hard earned meat, without dying a slow and painful death just like his already selected meat, he can just add more and more if he feels like it especially if those critters want to invite themselves to their own demises, bring on the carnage. He raises a large stick consumed and engulfed by the roaring fire, waving it front of anything coming towards him whether he could see or sense them around, they would burned severely with not a hint of remorse. Nothing is sweeter than the evolutionary kill. 

Nothing is free in this paper capital currency market system. This is everywhere, not just Affluenza 25 miles back from the Splitter Route Desert, fucking everywhere, what a fucking daily disease, worse than the common cold. Every single thing from the simplest hygiene products and toiletries that we need every day according to the doctors and dentists associations (minimum 3.47 to the maximum of 15 Skimsomes and 46 insets), the “apparently” filtered water (chalked up to the continuous running, 136 Skimsomes and 57 insets per week), clothing (5.38 to 57 Skimsomes and 34 insets), security (you know just in case, you do get robbed, invaded, uninterrupted or intruded by some unfamiliar faces in balaclavas wielding man made instruments of hell, that would rank up to somewhere of about 247.65 to 2836 Skimsomes and 55 insets, depending on deals offered at the time of need), melee weapons or guns (for hunting, protection or other, from 12.67 towards 539 Skimsomes and 23 insets plus an expired license which is approximately 25 Skimsomes which you have to update every 2 years), communication (Ah, Television with free view or cable, radio, compared to 3.27 to 927 Skimsomes and don’t you fucking dare forget about the 99 insets), altogether expensive and taxed, the full Monty is confounded by endless commodities. Nothing is free but the air (well, for now) and the kill itself.

Little White Trash may not have the biggest brains in the box, the know-how, doesn't have the ability to count to 5 or even tie up his shoelaces, never the less understand the formula of common sense and never mind about spelling it either, but at least he knows how to take care of himself. Giving a lovely little smirk, and even raising a toast of his pure distilled home brew 90% moonshine (made from scratch, which he also distributes) to the pretty sky and glowing stars, his only company, almost a 2nd guest to his feast, this is his 1st lone trip through the dirt roads and cruise through the town of Affluenza, nature is his calling.

White Trash, giving another slowly rotation to his selection of Snake, Lizard and nigger meat, not too long to eat now as it closes to a finish, this little boy, is around an only mere 14 years 5 months 9 days old, though has the skill and strength of a well-built 17 year old stock, still acts like a 9 years old, with a very white trash appearance: pale white, wearing the same clothes for a whole damn week, shameless without questions (at least there was nothing fake about him whatsoever), white trash teeth, yellow beyond comprehension, as the sun or the dirt in the desert, white trash blonde bleach hair, you just could fall in love with him from first sight if you lowered your expectations. This kid could eat and eat and never put on a single ounce of weight, he could devour several courses of meals in one sitting, imagine, breakfast, lunch, brunch, snack, snack, dinner and midnight snacks on top it, ending up with a slightly pudgy inflated belly but that all disappears after he went to sleep. The aroma of this meat is fucking overpowering White Trash's nostrils so much, that he didn't even know how much he was drooling onto his pants, licking his pasty cracked lips.

While the meat follows through, the escaping crackling inches of the flesh exposed, blessing the night air like a semi-offering/sacrifice. White Trash still cooking the meat and vegetables throughout, using the knife as a fork to circulate and stab up the crickets and pieces of pepper, sipping on his brew. Out of nowhere, he bursts out drunkenly laughing, reminiscing a week ago, the adventures he had to put up with, with their ups and downs that would bring tears to your eyes from the relation of the stress of life itself, also the comparisons to sweet revenge, payment, peace of mind and drips from the edge of your pricks, cunts and assholes.

7 days ago, to this day, rummaging through the area of Aroid Forest Park presiding in Aroid, Clesan, the town 8 miles before Affluenza, White Trash spotted across a cat, he picks up from its tail holding onto it bordering on as if he caught a fish. The cat reacts violently mad. He attaches a clothesline tied between two trees in the parts of the woods, with some company and by company, I mean, there were already 2 captured cats tied up with extra string and a rubber-bands, tightly knotting each feline's neck and paws. White Trash adds the 3rd to his temporary collection. He takes out 2 large Tupperware containers and a craving knife from one of his pockets, he pulls open the containers, kicking one of them under the struggling kitten: using his knife, he cuts off the cat’s tail making the feline cry out in surprise, shock and horror. (It’s got more to cry about later on). As the tail’s wound drips out a few drops of blood (every single drop is essential) White Trash slices it open revealing the bone, excusing and pouring the extra blood that resides inside the tail, he pulls the bone out placing into the already opened black bag, he opens the tail fully as he takes a nail and hammers it in a tree, it withers in the breeze. Proceeding onwards he pokes into the cat's ending of its trachea, eviscerating, emptying out the slow process of the gore gushing from its point of exit into the container, separating the flesh from the very skin, White Trash licks his lips while watching this transaction, it just cries and screams out also with the other cats staring in horror and mewing for help. Poor helpless dead pussies, he sarcastically thinks. 

He avoids any of the bones from falling in the container by chucking them into the bag still dipped in blood. He brings to rip apart any other fleshy muscles away from the skin, coming from the stomach: placing the heart, lungs, gall bladder, liver, intestines, pancreas, spleen and all the other tasty organs into the other container. You could hear the flesh pull apart, like Velcro stripping. Then proceeding to the middle again, stripping off the skin, going upwards to the difficult part: the skull, gouging out the eyes and removing the brains almost intact, into the container of meat and organs containing all the other muscles and guts. He slams the last bits of bones into the bag covered with blood dripped cat bones—to kick off the rest of enjoyment he carries on the same process for the 2 other poor cats to witness, suffer, and very soon experience themselves, giving into their enforced empathy. He nails the skins higher into the trees having them dry off, so nobody else can get their cracker hands on them or God forbid, a nigger’s.

He heads off to a close by the lake with his backpack, with his 3 taped up Tupperware containers, containing, 3 cats worth of blood, meat, guts and organs, and strips of dried coagulated skins.  
Over his shoulder, he carrying the trash bag full of cat bones, cleaning off the bones in the lake which children play in, cleaning each single bone. When finished for sure, off he was too the secret markets in the outskirts of town, the voodoo places, he believed to be or with a mixture of satanic and pagan stuff as well, for the bones (which totalled up to 230 Skimsomes and 42 insets) and the skins (for 43 Skimsomes and 87 insets). After selling the bones and skins, he heads off with his kitty meat and pussy blood to some chink restaurants in the area, receiving  
40 Skimsomes for the pool of pussy blood and 96 Skimsomes and 81 insets after all that hard work. If ever someone would walk up to White Trash, bitching and preaching about the rights and cruelty that animals suffered from his hands he would callously reply…

White Trash: 411 Skimsomes and 1 inset is worth any life, especially in the right circumstances.

2 days later. This nuisance gang blocked the outer entrance behind the alley on a particular side, that leads to a shortcut to the Loris Street, claiming it's theirs and theirs alone. Nobody else can cross it, into or out of the alley, without a toll, or obeying and demanded them respect (as if you were forced to cut their symbol onto your body, as a sign of blind obedience) or a good ass beaten but majority of the time, the beaten wouldn't even get you across, not even 10 feet to the road, right back to where you started but, black and blue and inset-less. Whatever their fucking names were or what their gang was called was no cause of concern, remembrance or care, especially when they got all the time in the world, plenty of patience to wait on the next fool and victim to step into their methamphetamine-ganja backstreet. White Trash just refereed as the nuisance gang, the locals called them the Loris Street Blockers. White Trash has no patience for cunts especially like them and does not believe in “respect” in any manner, shape or form, for his parents, machines, nature, man, government, president, dictator, bitches, creatures or insects. They were all on the same level, worthless as dog shit and to think that they deserve respect is laughable. They could all kill themselves, as far as he was concerned. 4 bastards 2 bitches, thugs/Chavs whichever take your fucking pick they are literally the same fucking things, around just speculating, pretty much gambling here, they could as young as 9 and as older than 22 years of age. White Trash doesn’t fucking know, he’s bad at guessing let alone describing.

Lingering around their territory like a bad smell dangerously high with high alcohol contents and low IQs (even altogether), they were even more lethal especially when they got buzzed and or drunk. Little White Trash knew none of their names also never cared to remembered if it was ever brought up or not, it wasn't important, the only thing important was what will happen after this outcome, there was: Blue Hat armed with a chain, Red Shirt (the eldest) and the cocksucker with the Skull Balaclava carrying broken beer bottles, Red Hoodie (who was the youngest member of this travesty of White Trash's generation, he may be rebellious but at least he has his reasons, this gang is all built from nothing but intimidation and bullying) and the bitch with a black leather jacket armed with knives in their socks, and the last bitch with a Blue Hoodie with a piece of scrap metal dragged around her shoulder.  
Walking towards and asking in silence for trouble and nuisance, but enough is fucking enough, who the fuck else can stop this, the police? Bitch please—White Trash is armed and loaded with a baseball bat—wrapped in sharp rusty barb wire, 2 knives, an ice pick, lighter fluid and a lighter in his back pocket, he only had a few Red Bulls, 2 hits of Speed and snorted a whole bag of coke and he was already on the GO. As the nuisances spots the new fool and victim, he waited for the Chavs to make the first moves. And as planned they all went full throttle ready for the 1st swing or a jab in his crack white skin. Skull Balaclava and Blue Hat came towards him first swinging and launching their weapons into his head area, blocking any potential stab wounds but not the whip of a chain to his head receiving an instant red bruise and stinging injury, as he slammed his bat into the Skull's head, sending him and his bottles with him smashing into the ground, blood leaking from Skull's skull to his neck. He began blocking Blue hat's chain whipping him, slightly but slamming the head of his bat into his stomach, then swiftly upwards whacking his head and then batting into the neck and head, barely moving anymore, gushing blood from his head soaking the pavement. His hat was also knocked off, revealing his poor banged up and bruised (economic) face. 

The bitch in the black jacket runs up with knives in her hands like a drunk and experienced ninja chink, slicing at Trash's arms and stabs twice in the left and right hip, stomach twice and once in the back, but then he takes out one of his knife, plowing without no hesitation, using all the strength in his one arm and stabbing her 7 times in the abdomen and another 7 in the neck, where she eventually succumbs to falling and losing her balance, also using his bat to knock her head quicker to ground. Charging him all at once, only stabbing once unsuccessfully in the shoulder blade by Red Shirt, and but concluding from getting stabbed in the legs, stomach with glass wounds 5 times, whacked by the sharp metal object, punched, kicked in the head and arms covering anymore potential damage. But in inches of Blue Hat's chain, impulsively wrapping the chain around red shirt's throat, choking him and biting off his nose, pushing him into the bitch in the blue hoodie, going towards the youngest one into the ground, then starts using his ice pick stabbing red shirt in the eyes and taking the blue hoodie's weapon and beating her with it, slamming it into her poxy head until he couldn’t anymore. 

After that, collecting his weapons, panting, weakly but with his amount of strength, he steals the bitch's black leather jacket, raids through the gangs pockets collecting all together 89 Skimsomes and 37 insets, some meth and pot for himself, and anyone in the gang he sees moving about, he just carelessly pours lighter fluid on them and sets them on fire and walks out of the alleyway, not taking a second glance. He heads down to the market getting ace bandages for his wounds, using ointment and patching himself, after that he heads down to the ice cream parlour, and eating a sundae with crushed nuts, sprinkles, strawberries and whipped cream, with the most satisfied and happy look on his face in ages. He couldn't believe what he had actually done but he was really fucking proud of himself.

Next day, after all the blood and sweat, and the news report of a young vigilante finished off a local gang killing 3 of them who eventually succumbed to their injuries from stab wounds, blunt head trauma and 3rd degree burns, 1 resulted into a coma and the other 1 was severely injured. White Trash only heard about it in a tattoo parlour when the TV was covering the story, the only thing that pissed him off was being referred as a vigilante, he didn’t even see himself in that form of light, he didn’t do it for anyone but himself, but other than that found it pretty cool he ended up on the news, he never knew it was a big deal but he really didn't have mind was being known as a mass murderer, that actually pleased him even more. Finally deciding on getting tattoos of a small x on his forehead and bloody crossed knives on his left shoulder.

The next day after that, there was nothing but sweet, sweet depravity. Having nothing to do, and couldn’t be bothered to burn through any money, White Trash came across some stray dogs. And he saw a choice of opportunity. No, not a desperate plea, like an “easy” target: animals, children, corpses and mentally disabled humans, he stuck his dick into whatever he liked too because he wasn't judgemental about sexual organs or genitalia, a hole is a hole, you can't control what sexuality attracts to the humanoid, you can't argue with White Trash's boner or anyone's sexual kicks, that's harassment, and others factors are, regressive ignorance and denial, he doesn't survive by living as a lie unlike the rest of you. By all means, it depends on who finds what particular breed or species of dogs, what you find sexy at least for some and that for White Trash. One of them was fortunately a Chihuahua, small and cute, but also sexy, and in heat, that's the defence he's going for, you can't deny someone in heat, that should be a crime! So why couldn't little White Trash be a part of this small yet exceptional and private orgy of swapping and exchanging fluids and services. Unwashed, untrained, bareback, salty shaft with no need for butter or any other substances like peanut butter for an excuse, call this the little party of canine cock. Watching the dogs fuck like no other, without asking, he sat front row and centre of the penetration, not minding the fucking right in front of his face. With no cares, he just grabs the dog's cock and shoving into his mouth, sucking faster to receive the knot. After receiving the knot in his mouth, he uses his asshole to receive the next selection of fluid. The Chihuahua wasn't missing out on anything, getting a nice tug and another fucking not by the other dog but by White Trash's young little cock. He wouldn't even care if someone was videotaping.

Last night in Aroid, ordered, yes fucking ordered by his parents to steal some wheels and tires, from the stores. It took about at least 3 hours for him to collect them all. The only thing he got out of all of that was a ONE warm beer and a single cigarette. Cheapskate cunts. He went out again, late at night, towards the Kids Park in an extremely angry mood considering it was also raining, trying to raid anywhere for more booze and waiting for the weather to chill his beer. He sits on the rickety bridge pondering on what to actually do, but he did love the rain hitting his head, it calmed him a bit, still felt like killing his parents, who wouldn't? 

Then he sees a drunk blonde dandruff bitch around the age of 15-20, walk by still holding a beer in hand, he helps her get out of the rain, hiding her and himself in the protected slide. He couldn't get anything translatable out of her of pissed stupor and clearly, she has pissed herself, staining her white panties, that only excited White Trash, licking up the excess of smeared tangy urine. He takes off her trousers and panties off, penetrating her cunt, she doesn't seem to mind. She pukes on herself, the slide and White Trash. That doesn't stop him one bit, even helped himself to finishing off her beer. He later stole some beer from an already raided store. Whoever started it, he sure was grateful. He left the unnamed cunt in the slide passed out, covered her up with whatever he could that was damp, he wrings the dirty and stained panties and drinks it with gleeful eyes and took them home with him. That was a hell of a way to end a goodnight.

Welly, well, well, that was his weekend. Fucking mental, eh?! That's the price you pay when you live in the ghetto (surviving). It's a bitch, might as kill yourself before the tattooed criminals get a hold of your ass, literately, all thanks to your local piggy department. This is no time to say, thank “God” (what the fuck did he ever do? Fucking retards), thank fuck or thank purely nothing: this isn't far from fucking over, not by a long shot!

After the last spin on the meat, it was finally ready, prepared, and served to the stomach growls of little White Trash. The wholesome aroma of onions the sliced and diced peppers, a handful of crunchy grasshoppers and crickets, you could really taste the protein. He snacked on the Lizard first, soft, spongy, with a slight rubbery, tangy but juicy fluid dripped from it like butter. Ah, that snake though! Tough, firm, almost like a thick banana made of meat. The eyes would pop in your abdomen like little cherry bombs. He finally gets to taste that sweet and tender crackling left Nigger leg. One bite and he was above the clouds, the taste almost indescribable. It reminded of very tender pork like he was eating the excess of fat and meat all together in a perfect, succulent bind. This Nigger could eat! Nothing better than perfectly cooked meat, then swinging proper moonshine down your throat. After finishing his meat, he staggers forwards, watching the stars stare at him, drunk off his ass. He soon passes out.

Wakes up with a headache. He pickups his knives and a screwdriver, using the screw to open one of the steps which held the keys for his mobile home, inside he went, still messy to a degree, empty beer cans, stacks of dishes in the sink. Before driving off anywhere, he packs up his grill and drags it inside and pulls out the last clean glass cup, heading to large stolen freezer to reveal, ice creams bars, packs of beer, the frozen bodies of the dead Nigger hitchhiker with a cracked skull and a missing left leg, the consumed and missing (nose, eyes, breasts, stripes of their individual left thighs and genitalia) remains of his Redneck, cocksucking parents with a shitload of stab wounds all over their chests and multiple bags of ice. He takes out some of the ice and closes the freezer. He sets the ice in the glass, heads to the bath, waiting for the ice to melt. When he comes out, he eventually changes his clothes, Finally! Takes 2 ibuprofen tablets and takes a couple of sips of the melted ice, opens the windows, starts the engine and heads off somewhere east, out of the Splitter Route desert. There he goes, little White Trash off somewhere new. Somewhere exciting. Somewhere, nobody knew his name, and he wants to keep it that way. No more being bossed around. He was on his own. Becoming his own man. Still a man, twice the child. Just him and nothing else. No one but him. He put on the radio, immediately starting singing and jamming out as he heads off on the highway out of the Splitter Route desert next step onto Mayforth Chester, a new town only 175 miles away.


End file.
